


Sort of exclusive

by justlikesomuch



Series: Poolside [1]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 16:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikesomuch/pseuds/justlikesomuch
Summary: Emily fucks Tommy while Jon watches, and then Jon goes down on her. No La Croix cans were spilled in the making of this fic.





	Sort of exclusive

**Author's Note:**

> For the love of the kinkmeme. Prompt [here](https://podsavethekink.dreamwidth.org/659.html?thread=131219#cmt131219):
> 
>  
> 
> This is all very made-up. Keep it safe and secret.

It's a warm day, and Tommy’s having a hard enough time concentrating on his book when Emily comes out to the pool wearing a pink bikini. He keeps his eyes determinedly focused on Jon as she joins them. She surprises him by sitting on the edge of Tommy's deck chair between his spread legs. 

She looks over her shoulder and hands him a tube of sunscreen. “Help me out, Tom?” She twists her hair up out of the way and holds it on her head.

He glances at Jon in the neighboring chair. He’s watching them from behind mirrored shades, his expression unreadable. 

Tommy tentatively squeezes out a bit of cream and rubs it into her smooth, tan skin with his fingertips, using as little contact as humanly possible. She has little blonde hairs everywhere, and they catch the sunlight

He’s already getting hard from this, and her cute little ass is just inches from his crotch, peeking out of her tiny bikini bottoms. He wishes Jon would give him some guidance here. 

She reaches back and—oh God—unties her bikini top. It hangs loose in front of her. Tommy rests his hands on his own thighs, setting the sunscreen aside. Before he can decide how to react, she scoots back slightly and unmistakably grinds against Tommy’s cock. He’s pressed against the cleft of her ass, willing himself not to thrust. He’s rock hard now, and the fabric of their bathing suits is completely insubstantial. 

Tommy looks at Jon. He’s taken off his sunglasses, and he’s leaning forward in his chair, watching the proceedings with great interest. He slowly, almost imperceptibly nods at Tommy. 

Okay. Okay then. 

“Do you want me to touch you, Em?”

Instead of answering, she brings his hand between her legs. He dips into the top of her bikini bottoms and cups his hand over her warm, soft mound. She’s completely smooth, and so small under his big hand. He dips two fingertips into her and fucks them in and out, nice and shallow. 

Emily moans and grinds her clit into the heel of his palm. She’s so fucking hard. Her wetness coats his hand and slicks the rhythm of his stroke. He yanks her suit bottoms down to her knees. She lifts her hips and rocks forward, riding his hand. He adds a third finger and fucks her deeper, gently smoothing over her small breasts with his free hand. 

Jon, who is watching his wife intently, raises his eyebrows and gestures slightly with his chin, a questioning expression in his eyes. 

Emily pulls off of Tommy and stands up. She removes her top and bottom and tosses them to Jon, who presses the pink fabric to his face and shuts his eyes, breath shaky. 

Tommy can't believe he can actually allow himself to look at Emily’s body. He's never had a guilty fantasy materialize without warning. She's so smooth and soft, bony angles punctuating her curves like exclamation points. 

She turns around and looks down at Tommy, assessing. “Take off your shorts, Tommy.”

He wriggles them down and pulls them off. He wonders for a brief, hysterical moment, if he should throw them to Jon as well. He folds them and sets them neatly on the table beside the sunscreen, his book, his phone, and an empty La Croix can. 

“Do you have a condom?” he asks.

Emily and Jon share a look. Jon shakes his head. 

“Can we do it without?” Emily asks, dark eyes wide. 

“Sure, if you're—okay. How do you want to . . .”

Emily turns her back to him, grips his cock at the base and, straddling the chair, lowers herself back and down onto him. She rests her weight on him and pauses, barely vibrating above him, two fingertips working herself. 

Tommy groans and thrusts tentatively, flexing his quads. She gasps and starts to ride him, slowly fucking herself on his cock. Her pace is perfect and unbearable. He follows her rhythm, head rolling forward to kiss her neck and shoulders. 

“Am I a slut, Tommy? Tell me.” She sounds breathless. 

Jon, who has been staring off into space as he palms himself idly, snaps to attention at this. He watches Emily with glittering intensity. 

“What?” Tommy slows his thrusting, strokes his hands down Emily’s arms. “No, Em, of course you're not a slut, you're—”

She jabs her sharp elbow, hard, into his bicep.

Ow. Oh. Ohhhhhh. Okay. 

He locks eyes with Jon.

“Your wife is . . . so, ah, so slutty, Jon.” Emily moans and starts to works her hips again, so he figures he's got the right idea. Like trash-talking the press, but with misogyny? But also sexy?

“Such a slut. Look at her, taking my cock like it’s nothing. How many guys do you bring over here to fuck her?”

Tommy can feel himself blush, but Jon doesn't seem embarrassed. He’s entranced. He loosens the knot on his trunks and pulls his cock out. Tommy’s mouth goes dry. Jon is. . . he’s big. He notices Tommy looking and smirks. Tommy tries to think of something to say. 

“She's feels so good, Jon, so tight. Should we bring her to the office? Let the staff have a go?"

Emily groans and speeds up her bounce. She must have a great core routine, Tommy thinks. He’ll have to ask her about that later. But now, he needs to focus. 

It's a lot—the warm day, her tight little body riding him, the increasingly desperate sounds she's making, Jon watching them as he strokes himself. Tommy feels like he could just sink into the moment, drive up into her and come right now, but he resists the pull. 

He reaches around to cup her as he fucks her, working her clit with his thumb. He presses two fingers of his other hand to her mouth, and she sucks them obligingly, moaning around the intrusion. 

“Maybe you should make a call, Jon. Invite someone to shove a big cock in this pretty little mouth.”

Emily gasps and clenches on him. He brings his moistened fingers to her nipple, circling and pinching, listening for what she likes. 

Jon is watching him, slowing his stroke to drag it out, cupping his balls with the other hand. His expression is hazy, pleasure-drunk. Tommy feels like he will come right away if he keeps looking at Jon. He needs to make this last. 

He palms Emily’s sweet little tits and runs his fingertips down her sides, making her shiver and moan. He works her clit faster. She grinds down into him, rolling her hips like a wave. 

“Should we take you on tour with us? Bring you on stage and let everyone in America see what Jon has? Let our guests fuck you backstage as a thank you?”

Tommy flashes on a fleeting image of Jason Kander—fuck, in uniform, for some reason—bending Emily over a table in a green room, pulling up her skirt with one hand while he orders Tommy to get on his knees and—

“Everyone knows how much you want it. You're so desperate. I'm gonna make you come to the studio and fuck you in front of the crew while Jon records the pod. Fuck you in our staff bathroom while everyone else waits for a turn. Keep you under my desk with the dogs so you can suck me whenever I want. Let the interns practice on you. Give you what you're begging for.”

Emily gasps and starts to come, clenching on his cock over and over again. Now it finally seems safe to look at Jon, who looks right back at him, stunned. Tommy shuts his eyes tight and comes, shoots up into Emily, pleasure and joy washing over him in waves. 

Tommy collapses back into the sun-warmed cushions of the deck chair. Emily lets out a happy little hum and sinks back into his arms like a doll, head lolling, her soft hair spilling over his chest. He kisses the top of her head, strokes the backs of her hands. 

“Baby,” she calls over to Jon. “Come take care of me.”

Jon scrambles to his feet. He shoves off his trunks and steps out of them, kneeling in front of Emily’s spread legs. He hooks her knees over his shoulders and buries his face between her legs, letting out a wrecked moan against her skin. 

Emily shudders in Tommy’s arms. He holds her and presses his cheek to her sweaty forehead, peering down at Jon. He can barely see anything of Jon’s face, he’s so fully engaged in sucking and licking Emily to satisfaction. His dark hair is soft and mussed, uncharacteristically free of product. One of his hands is clasped around Emily’s ass cheek, teasing her hole. The other works his cock fast, almost frantic. Jon loves this, thinks Tommy. He loves being so good and useful. 

Emily squirms and comes a second time, thrusting up into Jon’s face and squeezing Tommy’s hands. 

Jon gently sets her legs down and rests his cheek on Emily’s thigh, gazing up at her with fierce fondness. His lips and his stubbly chin and cheeks are shiny and used-looking. He bites his lip as he finally chases his own climax. 

“Look at your husband, Em. He ate you out after I came inside you. I guess you’re not the only desperate slut around here.”

Jon cries out and comes. Emily runs her hand through his hair, soothing. She reaches back to stroke Tommy’s cheek. 

“Just for you, Tommy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://justlikesomuch.tumblr.com/). I'm nice.


End file.
